


Empire State of Mind

by Leslie_Knope



Series: NurseyDex Week [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dex goes to New York, Fluff, M/M, POV Nursey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: Dex spends a summer in New York with the Nurses.





	Empire State of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> For day seven of [NurseyDex Week](https://nurseydexweek.tumblr.com/), Future NurseyDex. This is _barely_ in the future, but it counts! I've had this fic idea bouncing around for ages and really wanted the impetus to finish it. :)

The Haus is quiet when Derek walks in. SportsCenter’s playing lowly on the TV, but he doesn’t even spot Dex, stretched out on the couch, until he walks all the way into the living room. Dex has one arm over his face and his laptop carelessly strewn across his thigh, which is probably cause for concern—Dex is never so cavalier with his precious laptop. Derek closes it and moves it safely to the coffee table before sitting down next to his feet.

“What’s up, dude?”

“Hey.” Dex moves his arm off his face. “How was your test?”

Derek props his feet up on the coffee table and shrugs. “Fine, I guess. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m starting to hear back about those internships, and I got the one I really wanted.”

“Dude, that’s awesome,” Derek says sincerely. He was around for the frantic application process a couple months ago, and he knows how much work Dex put into it. “Congrats. So why do you look like, depressed?”

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“What? Why the fuck not?”

“It’s in _New York_. I mean, there’s a stipend, but it’s not even close to enough for me to live on for 10 weeks. I’ve been doing the math, and it’s just not gonna work out.”

“So stay with me,” Derek says, without even thinking about it, and Dex’s brow furrows.

“What?”

“Just stay with me,” he repeats, after he takes three seconds to actually consider it. Yes, this is a good idea. “We have a guest room.”

“I—I can’t do that.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Dex sits up, looking uncomfortable. “I can’t just like...mooch off you and your parents all summer.”

“Oh my _god_ , do not be such a fucking drama queen.” Dex swats him for that, and Derek swats right back. “You need a place to stay, I have a place to stay. Plus, it’ll be fun. Good practice for us living together next year.”

Dex hesitates. “Shouldn’t you ask your parents?”

“I mean, I will,” Derek says with a shrug, “but they’ll be fine with it, I swear.”

“ _If_ they’re actually okay with it, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Derek says, satisfied, and Dex gnaws at his lower lip.

“But thanks. It’s—that’s a nice offer.”

* * *

Penn Station is a mess, as always, but there are advantages to being tall, and Derek soon spots Dex’s red hair bobbing above the crowd. His train was late but not ridiculously so, which isn’t bad for the Amtrak. Derek waves him over, and Dex waves back, even drops his duffel bag down from his shoulder to wrap his arm around Derek in a loose hug when he’s close enough.

“Hey. Thanks for coming to pick me up, you didn’t have to.”

Derek shrugs. “Figured you’d get lost otherwise,” he says, and Dex makes a face at him. “How were the two weeks in Maine?”

“Good, except I wasn’t sure my parents were actually going to let me get on the train this morning. They’re like, terrified that I’m gonna get mugged.” He rolls his eyes, and Derek snorts.

“I’ll protect you from the big bad New Yorkers.” Derek makes his voice and his face solemn, and Dex laughs.

“Thanks,” he says sarcastically.

They step outside onto 8th, and Dex’s gaze immediately snaps up, craning his neck to look at the buildings. Derek’s familiar with that look of wide-eyed wonder. “Have you _never_ been to New York before?” he asks, and Dex shakes his head. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

A year and a half ago, that would have been wildly defensive, but now there’s just a tinge of it. Derek smiles. “Nothing. C’mon.”

It’s hot outside, sticky already even though it’s only early June, and Dex runs a hand through his hair. “How are we getting to your place?”

“Since you have bags, we’ll take a cab.”

“How far is it?”

“Like…50 blocks or so.”

“It’s weird that you measure in blocks,” Dex says, and Derek laughs.

“We’re going from Midtown to the Upper West Side. If that helps.”

Dex frowns. “It does not. I’m gonna need a map, I’m good with maps.”

“We can get you a map.”

They’re a little past rush hour, so the cab ride isn’t too bad.

“My parents are very excited that you’re coming,” he reports, as he pays the fare. “Just FYI.”

“Really?” Dex snorts. “Why?”

Derek shrugs. “I have no idea, I tried to tell them how annoying you are.”

Dex shoves at him as they trudge up the steps toward the front door. He hopes that Dex is prepared because Derek’s parents are like, _aggressively_ nice. It’s awesome, he loves it, but you never know when it’s going to be a little weird introducing parents to friends. Dex met his parents once at Samwell, briefly, but that barely counts.

And sure enough, the front door opens before Derek can even reach for his keys, and his dad’s taking Dex’s bags from him at practically the same moment that his mom pulls him into a hug. Dex looks a touch overwhelmed but has his game face on.

“Will, it is so nice to see you again.”

His mom holds Dex by his biceps, just like she does with Derek, and Dex smiles down at her. “You, too. And thank you for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course, dear, we’re so happy to have you. Derek needs more friends here in the summer, anyway. Otherwise he’ll just hole up in his room and write all day.”

“ _Mom_.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Dex says, mocking his tone, and his parents laugh.

* * *

Derek probably shouldn’t have worried about Dex not getting along with his parents.

He stumbles downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and in search of coffee, and the sight in the kitchen makes him blink a few times. His mom is in running clothes, which isn’t unusual, but there’s an equally-sweaty Dex standing next to her, which most definitely is.

“Uh, good morning,” he says, and they both turn toward him. His mom smiles.

“Morning, love. I ran into Will this morning and showed him my favorite route in the park. He was nice enough to slow down for me,” she says, patting his arm, and Dex snorts.

“No, it was most definitely the opposite.”

“I have to go get ready for work. You boys need anything, or are you all set?”

“Yeah, mom, we’re good.”

She smiles at him, the somewhat-sad one that seems to be the forte of parents with college-aged kids. “The house is too quiet without you and your sister around. Good having my little boy around again.”

“Mom,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t been _little_ in a very long time.”

“Still always my little boy.” She winks at him, and Dex makes a chirping face behind her back. Derek sticks his tongue out at him.

His mom laughs at them, blowing Derek a kiss before she heads for the stairs. “Tomorrow we’re doing the West Side Highway!” she calls out over her shoulder, and Dex gives her a little salute.

Derek reaches for the French press, which is already all set up. Bless his father. “Please don’t feel obligated to, you know, run with my mom.”

Dex finishes chugging his glass of water, then shrugs as he refills it from the tap. “Your mom’s cool. And she’s like, wicked fast. I’m gonna be in such good shape.”

“As long as you don’t expect me to go with you very often,” Derek says, and Dex threatens him with his sweaty shirt.

* * *

Summer in New York with Dex is…better than Derek was expecting. Not that he was expecting it to be _bad_ , not at all, but—he isn’t sure what he was expecting, actually. But probably not this.

Dex is game for anything that Derek wants to do, and so he thoroughly enjoys showing Dex all of his favorite parts about summer in the city. Derek feels especially nostalgic for New York summers since that’s all he’s known for the past several years, coming back to the city between years at Andover and then at Samwell. He has a few friends in New York but not a ton—going to high school somewhere else will do that—so it’s mostly just him and Dex.

Dex works during the day and Derek just bounces around, writing and reading a lot and catching back up with a couple of the volunteering groups that he usually spends time with in the summer. They often meet up after Dex’s day is done and either explore a neighborhood or take advantage of one of the myriad events that are going on in the city.

Dex screams a little when he sees his first rat in the subway, which is a reaction that Derek is planning to chirp him about for _literally_ years. (Though in his defense, it was a really ballsy one that nearly ran right over his foot.) He insists on seeing at least _some_ of the touristy stuff, but it’s at least mostly cool things like the big museums, Central Park, the 9/11 memorial, and the High Line. Thank god because Derek has no desire to go anywhere near Times Square or the Empire State Building. And in between those, he makes sure that Dex sees the _real_ New York.

He even goes with Derek to all the random cultural activities that he seeks out—tiny museums, art galleries, poetry readings. Like, _willingly_. It’s awesome. (He complains a little bit about the hipsters in Brooklyn, sure, but even _Derek_ can complain about the hipsters in Brooklyn.)

They enjoy the hammocks on Governors Island, walk through every random festival and street fair that they stumble upon, wait in line for tickets to Shakespeare in the Park, see the free movies in Bryant Park, and even ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. They go on an inspired quest to find the best soft serve in the city, which just ends with them holding their stomachs on the couch while arguing about the value of sprinkles.

Derek sheepishly admits to his all-time favorite activity of spending hours in a bookstore on a hot summer afternoon, and Dex indulges him whenever they pass one. Dex even finds one on his own, a tiny little used bookstore around the corner from his internship site that Derek’s never been to before. He’s so proud when he shows Derek, and it’s so endearingly adorable that Derek buys him the books he’s looking at and completely ignores all of his protests.

So, yeah—all in all, not bad.

* * *

It’s almost August, late enough in the evening that the worst of the heat and the mugginess has burned off, and they’re hanging out on the roof. Derek’s not sure if they’re _technically_ supposed to be up here, but he and Farah used to do it all the time. It’s a great view. The sunset was beautiful, golds and purples and pinks streaking across the sky, but now it’s dark enough that Dex is only backlit by the city lights.

Derek’s parents are out of town for the weekend, and he and Dex are celebrating by “breaking into” the liquor cabinet—which has always been available to him, honestly, though his parents would certainly prefer if they were imbibing in a more moderate manner. Does it make it classier if they’re drinking it out of crystal glasses?

But the scotch is expensive, and it’s good, and as a result, he and Dex are both pretty drunk. Dex maybe more so, if the way that he keeps bursting into giggles is any indication. Finally, Derek’s curiosity can’t be helped.

“ _What_ is so funny?”

Dex shakes his head. “This was just such a bad idea.”

“What, drinking up here?”

“No, coming here in the first place, to New York.”

If Derek were sober, he’d probably be offended. Instead, he just laughs. “What, why?”

Dex looks up at the sky, as if he’s considering what to say. It takes him a while to find the words, apparently, but Derek doesn’t let himself fill the silence. “Because you’re even _better_ here.”

“I’m _better_ here? What the fuck does that mean?”

“You’re...” Dex’s eyes are closed now, and he gestures vaguely in Derek’s direction, almost spilling his drink. “You’re just _more_ here. This is your _place_ , you’re in your element. Everything about you is bigger here.”

Derek blinks. He is so lost, and he’s pretty sure it’s not just because of the scotch. “And why is that bad?”

Dex laughs, but he doesn’t sound amused. “It’s not _bad_ , it’s awesome.”

Derek waits, but he doesn’t say anything else. “Okay, you gotta help me out here, dude, I’m pretty confused. Why do you regret coming here?”

That gets Dex to open his eyes, and he sits up a little to take another drag of his drink while he points at Derek. “I didn’t say that I regretted it.”

“But you said it was a bad idea.”

He flops back down onto his back with a sigh. “Yeah, bad for _me_ , not bad for you.”

Holy shit, drunk Dex is infuriating. “And why is it bad for you?”

He does that weird sad-sounding laugh again. Derek doesn’t like it.

“Cause I was already in love with Samwell-you.” Derek’s jaw drops open at that, but Dex just keeps talking, heedless of the fact that Derek’s world is disintegrating around him. “New York-you is...it’s even more. You’re more _you_ , and I didn’t even know that was possible. I would’ve been better off not knowing, probably, for the sake of my sanity.”

It’s silent between them for a long minute, as Derek’s scotch-addled brain tries to rearrange itself around this new information.

“What?”

When Derek looks over, Dex’s eyes are open, and his brow is wrinkled. “Fuck, I’m drunk. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna need you to say it again.”

“Say what?”

Derek grits his teeth. Love or no love, Dex will be lucky if Derek doesn’t throw him off this roof. “The part about you loving me.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s true.”

Derek’s mouth is suddenly impossibly dry, and he takes a long swallow of scotch. “For how long?”

Dex’s drink is balanced on his chest now, and he hums. “Like a year. I think.”

“A _year_?” His voice goes up pretty high there at the end, but he figures that it’s warranted.

“Did you really not know?”

“ _No_.” Derek feels that isn’t strong enough, so he repeats himself a few more times. “No, absolutely not. I most certainly did not.”

“That’s a little bit of a relief. I thought I was really shitty at hiding it.” Dex frowns and scratches at his stomach. “I think Chowder knows, he’s smart about that shit.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Am I—no! Of course not.” Dex looks adorably indignant, like a pissed-off puppy, and Derek believes him. “Why do you think I was so freaked out about living with you?”

Well, that’s...that’s a valid explanation that Derek hasn’t considered before. And he thought he considered them all.

“So are you...bi?”

“Probably.” Dex’s arm is slung over his face now, his nose tucked into the crook of his elbow. “This is all very confusing.”

Derek agrees.

“You are _very_ drunk right now, as am I. Let’s talk about this again in the morning.”

“Okay.” Dex frowns. “Are the stars supposed to spin?”

Oh, dear.

“Yeah, let’s get you inside.”

Derek swallows what’s left in his glass and takes Dex’s from his hand, pouring it out—it’s a shame to waste good scotch, but there’s only about four sips left and he doesn’t think either of them needs it right now. He carefully balances both glasses in one hand and tugs at Dex’s arm with the other. “Let’s go, dude.”

Dex manages to get to his feet without _too_ much difficulty and frowns again. “How am I drunker than you?”

“I have no idea.”

It’s not by much, though, and they lean on each other as they head back inside and downstairs. They pass the guest room, and Dex turns to look at it.

“But my—” Dex nods toward the door to his room, but he lets Derek tug him away from it, toward his own room instead.

“Just come on. In here.”

Because they _are_ talking about this in the morning, even if Derek has to sleep on top of Dex to keep him there. His room is hot, and they’re both flushed from drinking, so they both strip all the way down to their boxers without discussing it.

Derek flips the ceiling fan on, and the cool air feels heavenly on his skin. He stands under it for a minute, and by the time he turns around, Dex is already in bed, flipping around as he tries to get comfortable. As soon as Derek joins him, Dex immediately starts snoring, the light snuffling noise that Derek is used to from roadies.

Derek stares at him, still a little too keyed-up to fall asleep yet. Because honestly, what the fuck. It’s _Dex_. His presumably-straight best friend, just lying there asleep, loving Derek. Jesus.

Because Derek knows him well enough to be well-aware that when Dex cares, he cares _hard_. And now he apparently cares about Derek.

Whoa.

Dex is his best friend, no doubt—especially after this summer—and Derek loves spending time with him. Remarkably so, actually, enough that he should probably think about that some more. Could he really have all of that, _plus_ the...the other things that often come with a romantic relationship?

Derek swallows.

He keeps staring at Dex, at his broad, freckled shoulders, the way he’s sprawled out carelessly on the bed, his hair flopping over his forehead. Derek lets his eyes fall shut—he’s definitely too drunk to be thinking about this right now. He’ll know what to do in the morning.

* * *

Derek wakes up completely wrapped around Dex. They’re both on their stomachs, but Derek has a leg slung over Dex’s calves and an arm curling around the middle of his back.

He blinks his eyes open, wincing as the sunshine makes his headache very much known, thank you, and then freezes.

Dex _loves him_ , holy shit. The thought is even crazier now that he’s sober. And he in no way thinks that Dex was just fucking with him last night. Just…no. Dex is many things, but cruel is definitely not one of them.

Derek probably can’t move without disturbing Dex. Not that he would really want to, anyway, so he just rests his cheek against Dex’s shoulder and waits for him to wake up.

It takes maybe 20 minutes, Derek would guess, and then Dex shifts with a groan. He stretches a little and jerks when he clearly realizes how close they are. He doesn’t pull away, though, just moves enough to duck his head under the pillow.

“Morning, sunshine.” Dex groans again, and Derek grins. “How’s your memory?”

It’s quiet for a minute, then Dex coughs. “Crystal clear.”

“And are you gonna hide out under that pillow all day long?”

“Maybe.” He moves it, though, after a few second, and lifts up on one elbow as he scrubs a hand over his face. “I probably made you really uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for that. I never—well, I never would have told you if I wasn’t drunk. Obviously.”

Derek slides over so that his most of his body is covering Dex’s, and he wraps his arms around him from behind, squeezing.

Dex is very, very still. “What are you doing?” His voice is carefully even, and Derek smiles against his shoulder blade.

“Hugging you.”

“And why are you hugging me? Is this like a pity thing? If so, I’d _really_ prefer to just never speak of this whole thing ever again.”

“It’s not a pity thing,” he whispers. “Or even a friendship thing.”

Dex doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s certainly not moving, either. He’s blushing, though, if the pink on the back of his neck is any indication. On impulse Derek kisses it, the splotchy line of his blush. And then he keeps going, pressing dry kisses to the freckles scattered across Dex’s shoulders and upper back, which have only increased in number since the summer started.

“I’m kissing you now. If you can’t tell.”

“Yeah, I—” Dex’s voice breaks, and he swallows audibly. “I got that.”

“This is a thing we’re doing now. If that’s okay with you.”

Dex nods, a jerky little motion into the pillow, and his hands clench and release in the sheets. When Derek tilts his head, he can see that Dex’s lower lip is caught between his teeth.

He eventually slides off Dex’s back, and Dex twists to face him. They just kind of stare at each other for a little while, and Dex is the one who breaks the silence first.

“What now?”

Derek exhales. “Now we go brush our teeth because I would like to kiss you without dealing with the smell of stale scotch. And then we’ll go down the street to get bagels to help with our hangovers, and I might hold your hand on the way there.”

Dex laughs, tucking his mouth against the curve of his bicep to muffle the sound. His eyes are as bright as Derek’s ever seen them, and he never wants to look away. “Okay. I think I can handle that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/)


End file.
